Luck is on Our Side
by TheSnicketSister
Summary: After wrapping up their latest case, Dean returns to the bunker with a bag full of greasy food to celebrate, but when he gets there, instead he finds Sam is hallucinating again... years after Cas supposedly healed him. Neither of them know why this is happening. And Hallucifer won't shut up. One shot, complete.


Longish Author's note: I'm a horrible person who shamelessly loves torturing poor Sam Winchester, so this is an excuse for some whump and for bringing back a little bit of hallucinating!Sam because Chuck, I miss his season 7 arc. This takes place sometime after they got the bunker because I think the bunker is cool, also after Gadreel because I mention him once, I do mention demon Dean, but other than that, it doesn't really have a rigidly set time. The time period is: Bunker. Also, major props if you know what the Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik demon is a reference to. No slash. Expect more Sam angst from me in the future.

Warnings for: Certain hallucinations I guess, mild swearing (but not too bad), um my writing skill? IDK. I may have messed up some points of view.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not a car, not even a sock, please sir, give me some change, I'm just a poor beggar.

Extra author's notes you can and probably will ignore: This fic is the result of me procrastinating on my other fics, so if you are one of the like 3 people who were waiting for an update on those, I told you I'm bad at time management, but oh boy, I'm even worse at project management. I apologize, but at the same time, I have no shame. _But_ , I learned my lesson and so completed this fic entirely _before_ uploading it.

Unimportant tidbit: While I was writing this, "Big Brother" kept auto-correcting to "Bog Brother" and I just thought I'd share with you the mental image of Dean as a swamp monster covered in tree bark and moss that kept popping into my head.

Anyway, I don't claim to be a good writer. I don't know if this makes any sense or not. Enjoy, or don't, I'm not your boss. And without further ado:

 **Luck is on Our Side**

Dean went all out this time, Philly cheese steaks, fries, milkshakes, the works. He even threw in a salad for Sam and a slice (alright, a couple of slices) of cinnamon-coated cherry pie for himself for good measure because what the hey? They deserved a little indulgence after their last case.

A Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik demon. What a fucking mouthful. Waxy skinned, bald headed, fugly asshole with a singular Wolverine claw shooting out of its bare knuckles. It got a good jab in at Sam too before they were able to gank the sonovabitch.

God. He did not want to go through that again.

At first, they were convinced it was another wraith, like back in Glenwood Springs, but that theory was quickly proved wrong when after a silver blade to the heart… surprise, surprise… it was still alive and kicking.

They called all their available (living) contacts to see if they could scrounge up any information. But no cigar. Sam couldn't even turn up anything in the lore and that kid could Google search "Evil" and come back to him with seventeen relevant results in three seconds flat.

But thank the heavens, (actually, screw that, the heavens sucked ass), they finally caught a break.

Dean didn't like to admit it, but he loved that his brother was such a geek and actually liked all that Men of Letters researching crap. Even if it meant he collected some weird ass things and knew some weird ass facts, he got them out of some tough fixes with skills their father would have scoffed at. Skills their father did scoff at. Dean gripped the takeout bag tighter as he opened the door to the bunker. He did _not_ want to ruin their celebratory dinner thinking about that. Their beautiful, greasy, and indulgent celebratory dinner. God, his mouth was watering just out of anticipation.

For once in their screwed up lives, luck, among other things happened to be on their side. If it wasn't for Sam digging up these references to some ancient text last minute, well, he didn't even want to think about it. Who would have thought? Killing the demon with his own biological spike? But Sam did dig them up. And they were alive (which these days, was a feat in and of itself). They were ecstatic. They were… good.

"Grub's up, Sammy," he called, waving the food around and letting the fatty aroma waft into the air. "Come on, princess, I can't eat all this by myself, now can I?" His stomach growled and right about now, he was thinking maybe he actually could. "Sam?" He called again when he received no response.

Still nothing. _If anything could set off his warning bells sooner…_

"Sammy?" He clambered down the spiral staircase, two steps at a time, boots clunking heavily against the metal. In all fairness, his brother could have been sleeping or in another part of the bunker and Dean shouldn't be worrying so much, _should he?_ But that just wouldn't be in character for him, now would it?

"Dude?" Dean burst into the library, stopping dead in his tracks. He tilted his head, confused, and took in the scene in front of him.

Sam sat at one of the tables, body rigid against the back of his chair in a way Dean hadn't seen since, well since Gadreel was rattling around in his noggin, riding shotgun.

 _If one of those dicks was messing with his head again…_

Dean took a cautious step forward, testing the waters and watching his brother warily.

Short breaths escaped Sam's narrowly open mouth as he stared single-mindedly ahead, eyes glazed over as if he hadn't even noticed Dean's presence. Maybe he hadn't. _God, maybe he hadn't_. His hands were on his lap, right thumb pressed into the palm of the left.

"Sammy, you alright?" Dean asked, drawing on all of his willpower to not jump into full-blown panic mode just yet.

Sam started at the sound of his voice and Dean expected the usual answer _._ The ' _Yeah_.' The _'I'm good.'_ The _'I'm fine.'_ And so help him, God or whoever was still out there, he was ready to chew Sam out for lying, but what he wasn't expecting in a million years, hell, in a billion years, was for Sam to tell the truth.

"No." Sam shook his head, or at least moved it enough for Dean to register it as such.

"Oh, um-" Dean almost jumped back at that, brow furrowing in surprise. He rolled the question around on his tongue. It was foreign to the Winchesters, strange, and he didn't know how to go about it, but they weren't keeping crap from each other anymore, _they weren't_. "Do you want to… talk about it?" He raised one eyebrow.

Sam didn't answer right away. Taking in a slow, shaky breath, he wouldn't meet his brother's eyes, wouldn't even offer a glance.

"Come on, Sam, lay it on me, chick flick moment or not, I'm here. Sound off." Dean waved his fingers in that beckoning gesture, inviting any kind of response he could get.

Sam didn't even crack a smile at the feeble attempt at humour. He wrung his wrists together, staring down at them with a quivering lip. "I'm hallucinating, Dean," he said finally, tone eerily calm, even ending with the huff of what could almost be called a laugh, like he couldn't believe it, he just couldn't fucking believe it. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the other side of the room.

That was all Dean needed for the sirens to go off and the Mother (Brother?) Henning mode to kick in. He dropped the takeout bag onto the table without a second thought and was at Sam's side in an instant. "Jesus, Sam, how long?" He brushed the kid's hair out of his face, searching for any sign of recognition in his blank gaze.

Sam blinked furiously against Dean's touch, shallow breathing making him sound like he was shivering profusely despite the sweltering summer heat. "Just- just since you left, I don't- I thought-" He stuttered out as if he couldn't decide what it was he wanted to say, but Dean stopped him.

"Is it Lucifer again?" He growled, letting go and sweeping his own eyes across the room like that might suddenly reveal the devil to him too and he could personally beat up the invisible sonovabitch. He didn't even think about how long it had been since he'd done that before. How fucking long.

Another rickety breath racked Sam's lungs. He paused, sounding defeated already, his voice hoarse, "It's he licked his lips, shutting his eyes to the suddenly too harsh light of the fixtures above him, "it's… everything," he finished with a sigh, and this time he did look at Dean, with tired, weary eyes that told him all he needed to know. He was scared, and he needed his big brother to walk him through this… like he did before… like he did in… God, like he did in the warehouse. Like he did at Bobby's. Sam's eyes watered, burning red. He had been crying, and judging by the state of his voice, Dean grimaced, screaming too.

That thing about luck being on their side? Yeah, scratch that. Luck was a bitch.

"Sammy, look at me," Dean held his face between his hands, "look at me. It's not real."

"I know, I-," Sam wet his lips and screwed up his forehead, making his best attempt to focus on Dean and only Dean, not on the fire, not on the roaring, raging fire, licking at his feet, at his skin, at his-

 _Not real. Not real. Not real._

"I just don't understand," he said at last, eyes searching desperately for an answer in Dean's, "I thought Cas-" his voice was incredulous before he settled on a low whisper, "it's been years, Dean. Why would I start- why now?"

 _Why now?_ Dean thought _. Why ever? Why couldn't the friggin' universe leave them the Hell (Heaven? Purgatory?) Alone?_

But Dean didn't say any of that out loud.

"Look, I don't know, but we'll figure this out, okay? We'll figure this out." He took Sam's hand, the one they hadn't needed to use since the Leviathans were still crawling around topside, and pressed his fingers into the scar that had long since healed. "We always do."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled mirthlessly, the scar didn't help, "and we also always figure out a way to make things ten times worse."

"Hey, not our fault the entire freaking world has it in for us."

"And it's not the world's fault we're always looking for trouble."

"Hey, trouble looks for us, Sam," Dean held up one finger in point, "hell, trouble has us programmed into its GPS. Now get up, come on," he hustled around his brother, shooing him out of the chair, "you're going to get some rest, and your big brother is going to make this all better."

"Dean, I'm-"

"If you say you're fine, I swear I'm going to punch you."

"Not fine… I'm just- what are you going to do? We don't even know why this is happening."

"Well, that's what we're going to find out. What _I'm_ going to find out," Dean corrected himself, "because you're getting your ass into bed."

"Right."

" _Except we do know why this is happening, don't we, Bunk Buddy?"_

Sam stiffened.

" _You're broken, Sam, always have been. And you can pave over the cracks all you want, but they'll just keep on getting bigger and bigger and-"_

 _Not real. Not real._ He swallowed again.

" _Real enough for you to question it." Lucifer whispered in his ear, cool breath like poison slithering down into his veins._

"But Dean-"

"No 'buts'," Dean held up another finger, "except yours on a big ole comfortable mattress, you hear me?"

Sam nodded slowly.

" _Won't that be fun," Lucifer imitated false excitement, "you and me, only one bed, I swear I've read this before."_

Sam shuddered, but managed to pass it off as a yawn.

" _Or maybe you want to replay our greatest hits? How's no sleep for the next few weeks sound? A nice trip down memory lane?"_

"Alright, good." Dean seemed satisfied with that, if a little suspicious. "Have at it then, but first," he picked up the bag he dropped earlier, "get some food in that pie-hole of yours." He tossed him the salad, making his way over to the kitchen, "I don't want my little brother withering away while I do all the work, again." He grinned.

"Yeah," Sam huffed in mock indignation, "sure. You know I'm the one who found out how to actually gank that last demon, but whatever you say, Dean." Sam caught the container with both hands, fumbling with it against his chest.

"And I'm the one who actually did gank it." Dean cracked another smile as they sat down. He popped off the cap of his beer, pulling a face. It was starting to get warm. "Glar ghul kashmoney, whatever, piece of cake," he said, playfully teasing him before changing the subject. "I see whatever's going on in your head hasn't messed with your hand eye coordination yet. That's a good sign." He nodded at Sam's catch.

Sam ignored him. "It's Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik," he said.

"What?"

"The demon. Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik."

"Hasn't messed with that insufferable big brain of yours either."

"Gee, thanks, Dean."

"Anytime."

"Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean took a big swig of his drink.

" _Aw, how sweet. Are you two having a moment? Do I get to chime in with the name-calling too?" Lucifer sat cross-legged at the edge of the table, watching the two of them._

"No," Sam answered right away without thinking.

"Sam?"

 _Damnit._

"What?" He feigned innocence, puppy dog eyes and all, but Dean wasn't having it.

"It _is_ Lucifer, isn't it?"

 _Damnit. Damnit. Damnit._

"Is he here right now?" Dean glanced around.

Sam hesitated, then nodded, halfway through a bite of salad, the crunch of the lettuce like bones grinding into his teeth.

" _I'm always here, Sammy, you know it, I know it."_

"What's he saying?"

" _Aw, he thinks he can help. You thought your brother's little angel fixed you, didn't you? But he only tucked me away. I never left, Sam. And I never will."_

Sam refrained from the urge to yell, "Shut up," because he knew exactly where that landed him last time and he was not going to go through that again… unless it was already too late. Too late. Too late. Too late. "It doesn't matter." He said instead, shaking his head vehemently.

"Look, Sam, if you want me to help you, you have to work with me here."

"Seriously, Dean, it was nothing. Stupid, little things. I overreacted."

"Hey, if it's bothering you, it's not stupid." Dean leveled his gaze with Sam's.

"Really, it's good. _I'm_ good, for now."

"Well, you sure as Hell weren't when I came in." Dean leaned forward, anger melting into concern painted all over his usually stoic face. "So you're good for now. But for how long, Sam?"

" _How long until baby Sammy goes off the deep end again. How long until the mean old devil convinces him to blow his brains out. Big brother's probably been waiting for you to crack for years, Sammy boy, and now here you are."_

Sam flinched again.

"You know maybe I should- maybe we should-" Sam tread carefully with his words, "Do you think my room is the best place for me to be right now?"

"As opposed to where?"

"Last time-," Sam shook his head, "I ran. Last time, I- I should be-"

What Sam was implying finally dawned on him. "No." He said firmly.

"Dean-"

"Hell, no, Sam." Dean paused, cursing at his choice of words. "You want me to lock you up? Is that it?"

" _Ooh, chains. That would be fun." Lucifer mused next to Sam, rubbing his hand over his chin in thought. "Not as fun as stringing up your own intestines and making you run screaming into the streets, but I could make do."_

"Just as precaution," Sam said, wincing and doing his best to ignore the grating voice nattering in his ear, "last time-"

"Last time, you were hiding things from me and I was hiding things from you. Last time, I was drinking and dealing with shit no one should have to deal with," Dean bit his tongue to stop himself from exploding, "this time, I'm here."

" _And I'm here too, Sammy," Lucifer purred, "just like old times."_

"He's here." Sam muttered.

"He's here?" Dean knew as much the entire time with all of Sam's recoils and movements, but didn't feel like rubbing it in his brother's face right about now.

"I don't know if I can get through this, if I won't run again. I don't want to go back to- to- a fucking mental hospital, Dean."

"And what," Dean shouted, but there was no anger in his words, "you think you and him in a freaking dungeon is going to do any wonders for your psyche?"

" _Sounds familiar," Lucifer agreed, "You, me, locked ward, locked dungeon, same difference, you know the deal, Sammy."_

"Look," Dean continued, "this isn't demon blood. I don't need," he grimaced at that word, 'need', (did he _need_ to lock him up the first time?), "to put you on lock-down."

"But how do you know? We have no clue what's causing this. How could you possibly know?"

" _He doesn't. Big brother doesn't have all the answers, Sammy." Lucifer drummed his hand against the table, "that is," he shrugged, "if he really is big brother. But you know, bunk buddy. You always know." Lucifer snapped his fingers as Dean's face started to warp into something less than human._

Dean let out a sigh as Sam watched moths and maggots crawl out of the crevices, face twisting in horror. "You're right, I don't know, not for sure, but I mean, over one hundred years in Hell, man, come on? A thousand years of solitude? I'd be crazy if I didn't expect something-" he stopped himself.

Sam swallowed, eyes fixated on the slowly corroding façade of peeling skin and blackened, bloody eyes, but ears finely tuned into Dean's words. His throat tensed. "You think it's me."

"No, fuck, Sam, this isn't your fault."

"You don't believe that. You think it's happening again. The Great Wall of Sam's cracked."

"What? There's- there's no wall."

"But it doesn't matter, does it?"

"It does matter. Sam, I need you to look at me."

"I can't."

"You can."

"I'm broken, aren't I? That's what this is. That's what you think this is."

"Hey," Dean growled, "listen to me, you are NOT broken. You hear me?"

" _You're just damaged beyond repair." Lucifer leaned in. "But damaged goods are still goods."_

Sam glanced up again. Lucifer was now peeling off Dean's skin, strip by strip, if it really was Dean.

 _God, if it really was Dean._

He blocked out the sound of his name being called from the other side of the bunker and stifled a gag. "I think you should leave."

"I'm not leaving you like this."

"I need you to leave." Sam breathed heavily.

"What's going on?"

"Please."

"I-"

"Please, Dean."

Dean steeled himself, but didn't protest anymore. He clamped his mouth shut and slowly backed out of the room, lingering around the doorway just in case.

Sam dropped his head into his hands, running them through his hair. It was a bad idea telling Dean. Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. He tossed the container of salad against the wall.

" _I hate to say I told you so, Sammy, but," Lucifer laughed, "oh who am I kidding, I love to say I told you so. Big brother Dean was just waiting for you to crack and you did," he mimed wiping away a tear, "you made us both proud."_

"Go away," Sam practically snarled, not even bothering to remember the consequences of replying to the sonovabitch.

" _You know, I am truly hurt. You're saying you don't like my company, Sam?"_

"No."

" _So you do like my company?"_

"Shut up."

" _Oh, that phrase brings back so many memories. Remember when we worked that demon case together? Good times, Sam. You know, we should do that more often. A little vessel, angel bonding time."_

"Wasn't a hundred and twenty years enough?"

" _It's never enough, Sam. It will never be enough."_

"You okay in there?" Dean called, but still left Sam his privacy. That was a good sign wasn't it? That meant this time was different. That meant this time Dean trusted him.

He took a deep breath. "I'm good, just give me another couple of minutes."

He could hear Dean grunt unhappily, but judging by the fact that he didn't come storming in, it seemed he had conceded.

" _Aw, you think he trusts you."_

"He does trust me," Sam said resolutely, "he does."

" _A lot can happen in a couple of minutes."_

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up."

" _Oh yeah, you're doing just fine. This," Lucifer gestured to him cradling his own head, "is the picture of health. When Sam didn't answer, he continued. "Why won't you let me talk, Sammy? I could be helpful. I've helped you before."_

"My screwed up subconscious helped me," Sam gritted his teeth.

" _So, what makes you think this time is any different? Cage or not, if you think I'm just all in your head, why not listen to me?"_

Still no answer from Sam.

" _Why not listen to the devil on your shoulder, Sam?"_

"Shut up."

" _Is it because you're not sure?"_

"Shut up."

" _You're not sure if you're really out of the cage. You're never sure. After everything that happened with Dean. The mark. The jackass angel. The knights of Hell. A little overboard, even for the big man himself. This could be my best torture yet."_

"You're not real."

" _Oh, but I'm something. What am I Sam? That's always the question, isn't it? What's different this time? Who spiked the punch and has you strolling through memory lane?" He snapped his fingers again and the fire from the library was back, the fire from above his crib, from below his feet in the depths of the pit, from behind his eyelids, and under his skin._

"Dean!"

" _There you go again. Dean, Dean, Dean. No concern about Lucifer's feelings." He placed his hand to his chest in mock offense. "Come on, you don't need him! You got me! What more could you want?"_

"Dean!"

" _You're no fun, you know that? I was just turning up the heat." Lucifer feigned spinning a dial in the air as the room got hotter. And hotter. And hotter. "You're going to thank me later. " He flickered out of the picture all together, forcing Sam to bear the flames alone._

"Dean!"

Dean sprinted through the doorway in an instant. "I'm here. I'm here." He rubbed Sam's shoulder, relieved to find the situation hadn't escalated as much as he thought it would since he left.

The fire slowly dissipated with the sound of Dean's soothing words. "Come on, it's time to rest." Dean coaxed as he took into account the scattered remnants of salad littered across the floor. "It's time to rest."

They hobbled together into the hall, Dean half supporting Sam's weight as he dragged his feet along the tile.

Sam mulled over Lucifer's words, testing them out on his tongue. "Who spiked the punch," he suddenly murmured to himself, halting instantly. "That's it."

"What's it?" Dean eyed him worriedly, hovering his hand in front of him. "Sam, ground control. Who are you talking to?" He watched his eyes carefully.

"No one," Sam shook his head, then instead asked abruptly. "What's different this time, Dean?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Lucifer, the hallucinations. What's different this time? What's different with us?"

"What? I don't know."

"Why would he show up now? Why not when you were a demon? Why not when I wasn't able to figure out what was going on when Gadreel was riding around inside my head? Or when I was doing the trials? Or when-"

"What's your point, Sam?"

"Why now, why today? What's different this time?"

"I don't-"

"Who spiked the punch?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Lucifer-"

Dean tensed at Sam saying the word.

"He said, 'what's different this time?' and 'who spiked the punch?' and it was weird."

"Lucifer saying anything is weird, since he's not real." Dean used that cautious voice he only used when he was afraid Sam was going to go off the deep end again, but Sam only gave Dean his best bitch face in response.

"I know." He said.

"You know?"

"The Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik demon, Dean." Sam's eyes were wild with some kind of mixture between realization and relief.

"Kashmoney?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you see? That's what's different. We've never hunted one of those before, we don't know what they can do. What if it's more like a wraith than we thought? What if that's what's causing all this? When it sucker punched me in the gut," he lifted the bottom of his shirt to reveal the scar Dean had stitched up after the case, "that spike went right through my skin. Spike? Punch?"

"And you think- what?"

"We just assumed the prongs worked like a wraith's, right?"

"Right." Dean still eyed him warily.

"Or Jefferson Starships," Sam continued, "to drain brain fluid and use as a weapon. But what if they do something else? What if the spike injected me with some kind of poison? A toxin that's making me see…" He didn't bother finishing the sentence because Dean got the gist.

"That's a lot of what ifs, Sam. And I mean, it was…" he hesitated, "Lucifer's idea, wasn't it?"

"But it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Look, man, I don't know." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "You kill a wraith, the crazy dies with it. It stops, it doesn't start."

"That's just it, Dean." Sam looked at him with desperation. "We're treating this like a wraith, but it isn't. Maybe I missed something in the lore- in the Men of Letters files." He pulled away from his brother and quickly circled back to the library despite Dean's attempts to get him to his room. "I have to be missing something." He leafed through stacks of folders and papers, almost manically, but stopped when he noticed a crumpled note wedged underneath one of the boxes. "Here." He held it up to the light. "This! This fell out of the demon's file."

Dean snatched the browned piece of paper from his hands. "Observations of the Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik demon," he said aloud, or at least tried to say. Fuck, he was never going to pronounce that correctly. "Appears to be summoned or raised through playing a," he squinted at the next line, "didgeridoo?" He turned the paper around. "Fuck, Sam, are you sure this is even a real document?"

"What else does it say?" Sam urged him to continue, his breathing unsteady again as he held his left palm under his right thumb.

" _Yeah, I want to hear this." Lucifer said, deciding to make his presence known again. He flickered out as Sam pressed down on his hand tighter._

"Waxy skinned, similar to wraiths in appearance, yada, yada, yada," Dean skimmed through the page, flipping it over and ready to call the theory a bust until, practically gaping, he read the next line, "they use the spike in each of their arms to inject a _poison_ that causes the victim to experience vivid hallucinations." He cursed under his breath. "They seem to be able to choose the hallucination they inject in their victims, or the hallucination can be "random" playing on the… victim's fears." He glanced over the top of the paper at Sam. "You were right."

" _I was right, Sammy boy."_

Sam exhaled the breath he was holding, shoulders and eyes relaxing despite Lucifer's presence. "I was right," he echoed, practically ecstatic from the news.

"Okay, so, how are we supposed to…" Dean fumbled for a word, "reverse this?"

"Keep reading," Sam nodded, "maybe it says something."

" _Then again, maybe it doesn't. Maybe it's me and you forever, Sammy."_

"It has to say something," Sam said adamantly.

Dean heard the fear in his voice and kept reading. His eyes scanned the page, left and right until they finally landed on what he was looking for. "There's an antidote." His face lit up, then fell almost as quickly. "Carried in the stinger that also carried its own poison." He read on. "If the victim," he cringed at that word too, "doesn't get the antidote, the hallucinations eventually become… permanent," he finished.

Fuck.

" _Ooh, that doesn't sound promising for you. Super rare demon and you just killed the entire local nest. Very promising for me though. What do you think? I'm thinking first night, slumber party. I can braid your hair."_

"We're going to have to find another one of these? Sam-," Dean shook his head, "over thirty five years and this thing's not even on our map once. I don't know how-" He stopped mid-sentence, "Wait, why are you smiling?"

" _Yeah, why are you smiling."_

"Because for once," Sam stood, "luck is on our side."

"Luck is the furthest away from our side she's ever been, Sam."

"Are you sure?" Sam couldn't help but keep the grin off his face as he made his way over to one of the library cabinet drawers. "Because after the hunt, after you ganked the demon, I decided to keep a little souvenir in case we run into one again."

"You didn't."

" _You didn't."_

"I did." He flipped the lid open on a small metal lock box and retrieved the broken off spike of the demon's arm wrapped in a dark brown cloth.

"Dude, that's gross." Dean accepted it as he handed it to him, not willing to admit he was impressed.

"I thought I could study it, or it would be useful if we stumbled across a case like this again. Figured we'd be one step ahead."

"Well, right now, you are one thousand steps ahead, and we are getting you that antidote ASAP." Dean looked like he could have kissed that spike right about now, but refrained from doing so because… well poison, kind of a bad idea. God, his brother was a geek. Wanted to study it? _Study it?_ Fuck, he couldn't be happier.

It was surprisingly easy to extract the antidote and Sam couldn't be more relieved either.

No more fire. No more Lucifer. Just him and Dean, together, watching some crappy movie on HBO (which Dean insisted was necessary to reach the bunker's full potential as a permanent home).

Luck was on their side.

Luck was still definitely a bitch, but she was on their side.

Sam felt himself drifting off into dreamland on the couch, remote falling from his hands and clunking onto the floor. Dean was already asleep next to him, drooling into the cushion.

" _I told you you'd thank me later."_

Sam's eyes shot open, but all that met him was darkness, and the fuzzy static of the television… and the peaceful rhythm of Dean's snores.

Yeah, he closed his eyes again, luck was on their side.


End file.
